The Nine In Trouble!
by Anoriel
Summary: CHAPTER 5 POSTED: The Nine are in trouble and it's up to Sauron and Saruman Reincarnate to save them! Sequel to the Nine Go Shopping trilogy.
1. Ch1: The Nine in Trouble!

A/N: Gosh, I'm ashamed of you guys! I actually post THREE chapters in one day, and I get NO reviews. Really pathetic. I should probably go back to the old "fifteen reviews" gig, but as I already have fourteen, that would be too easy. Of course, posting this makes it WAY too easy, but what can I say? I'm fed up with waiting for just ONE review. So here goes. As promised, the sequel to the Nine Go Shopping trilogy.

The Nine In Trouble!

Chapter One

Saruman Reincarnate is, as usual, pacing in Isengard, rather than wreaking havoc over a bunch of short people or getting his throat slit by a sniveling creep who calls him "Sharkey." He is pacing because he is stressed. And he is stressed because he has come to the three-week deadline imposed by _himself_ to assemble a second Uruk-Hai, and he still has five hundred seventy-two super orcs to breed.

Suddenly he gets a call over the palantir. He has programmed his to play Mozart's Sonata K545 movement two, "Andante," and frankly, there's only a certain amount of times you can listen to that without going berserk. He, fortunately, has not reached that certain amount of times yet and uncovers the palantir from under a piece of cloth.

"Saruman!" it immediately roars.

"I thought I told you to call me _Saruman Reincarnate_," he hisses evilly.

"You did! But I'm not in the mood to be obliging this morning, Saruman!" it roars again.

"_Saruman Reincarnate_," he hisses again.

"You have not delivered the Uruk-Hai!" it roars again.

"Sauron, Sauron, I still have five hundred seventy-two -" Saruman is interrupted as an orc comes to whisper something in his ear - "I mean, five hundred sixty-eight super orcs to breed. So it is absolutely impossible for me to deliver them at this moment."

There is a strange whistling sound at the other end, not completely unlike that made by a boiling tea kettle.

Finally Sauron responds. "That is definitely a _major_ problem, which, I am assuming, will be resolved soon enough. However, there is another bigger problem, and that is that I have no idea where the Nazgul are."

* * *

The Nazgul are, at this moment, stuck with Smeagol in a prison cell listening to some really disgusting burping noises, which are emanating from a man who calls himself "Bubba." Five is playing his harmonica.

Still in their humiliating barrel costumes, the Nine are hardly having a wonderful time of it. They have been arrested as accomplices to an attempted murder performed by none other than Smeagol, who strangled the Evil Jeweler Dude almost to death. Not only that, but the Ring of Power was wrested from them before they wer thrown in prison, supposedly to be given back to the Evil Jeweler Dude, but what with its strange magnetic powers, it had probably been kept by the cop who took it from them.

The Nazgul faced their arraignment a couple weeks ago, and, of course, being totally unfamiliar with the United States court system, they had no idea what to do. When asked how they pleaded, they promptly responded that, as servants of Lord Sauron, they would not plead to anybody. Then they demonstrated a rather dissonant version of the old patriotic "Minas Morgul Anthem," which caused a lot of strange looks around the courtroom.

So here they are now, stuck in a cell with Smeagol and Bubba, while Five tries to squeak out a few notes on a harmonica.

"Shut up," says Eight, ever the optimist. "You never know who might be watching us."

Bubba emits a loud burp. The Nine are not sure where he gets the gas to burp.

"What're you in fer?" says Bubba hoarsely. This is the first English he's spoken since the Nine and Smeagol were tossed in here.

"That," says One testily, "is none of your business, you tark." One is the rather violent one.

"Hrm," says Bubba. Then he goes back to burping.

The Nazgul start a conversation with each other, one they have been having every day for the past two weeks.

"When is that great idiot Sauron going to get us back?" grumbles Eight.

"Why would he _care_ if he gets us back?" asks the naïve Three.

"That was a rhetorical question, you maggot," retorts Eight. "And anyway, he would _need_ us back because we are the Ring-Seekers. He wouldn't dare send anybody else but us to find the Ring."

"I thought he was going to get us the Uruk-Hai," says Six.

"There's another thing. He _promised_ us the Uruks the very day we were captured. They still haven't arrived. If only I had my cell phone..." says Eight.

"You mean, if only we had our Morgul Blades. We would be out of here in ten seconds," says One.

"The fact is we don't have our Morgul Blades, and no amount of wishful thinking is going to change that," replies Eight, neglecting to add the same statement about his cell phone.

So the Nine ramble on rather boringly about this subject, and so make the reader and writer believe that this fanfiction would be more interesting were its focus on Mordor at this moment...

* * *

OK, there is my first chapter, obviously. I hope that you readers out there will actually seek to get out of the lethargic state you are in and endeavor to write a review, because otherwise chapter two may be rather long in coming. That was not a threat.

~ Anoriel


	2. Ch2: The Dealings of Sauron and Ten

The Nine in Trouble!

Review responses:

Rica: I'm glad you think so.

Chapter 2

-Mordor-

Sauron places the piece of cloth carefully over his palantir and heads down to his ultra-secret planning room. The label on the door says "Sauron's Ultra-Secret Planning Room." He opens the door and steps inside, where he is greeted by about fifty orcs in immaculate white lab coats bowing in his general direction. He waves the five nearest ones aside and says, "Show me the plans."

They do.

An object that resembles nothing so much as a foozball table is brought up and placed in front of Sauron. He studies the foozball-table-looking-thing for a moment and then roars, "What?! What kind of plan is this?!"

A random orc timidly says, "It would be easier to plan, milord, if we knew where the Nazgul were."

Sauron looks like he's about to explode, but he realizes that there is some merit in this argument. "All right," he says rather lamely, "your plan it is. We send out scouts to find them."

* * *

-Somewhere in northern U.K.-

Professor Sprout provided the ingredients, Professor Snape provided the skill, and Madam Pomfrey provided the hand to administer the draught. Ten provided nothing but trouble.

"Sauron sent me to help you, you ungrateful scum, and I…. Where am I? Who are you? What have you done with the Ring?" he cried as soon as he woke up in the Hospital Wing.

The two witches and one wizard standing around his bed shook their heads sadly. They had hoped that this one would not awaken uttering gibberish. This was always a possibility, of course, but still…

A man with a long silver beard swept into the Wing. "Professor Dumbledore," said Madam Pomfrey, "he has recovered."

"I know," said Dumbledore rather heavily. "That is why I came here."

Professor Dumbledore conjures up six chintz armchairs and orders Madam Pomfrey to go summon Professor McGonagall of Transfiguration and Professor Granger, the new Arithmancy teacher. The three arrive back in the Hospital Wing within ten minutes and take their seats in the armchairs.

"So," says Dumbledore, "to business. Who are you, my friend?"

"I am Nazgul Number Ten, servant of Lord Sauron, Fairy Godmother to the Nine, and scout for the Ring of Power! Mwahahahaha!" cries Ten.

"Where are you from?" asks Dumbledore.

"Mordor!"

"Why are you here?"

"To find the Ring of Power!"

The other four Professors and Madam Pomfrey are looking white, shocked, and rather confused.

"It is as I feared," says Dumbledore. "Severus, please fetch the Veritaserum."

Professor Snape leaves the room and returns five minutes later with a vial of clear liquid, which he hands to Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Severus." He puts three droplets of the potion into a glass of water and hands the solution to Ten. "Drink this."

Ten laughs aloud. "Are you trying to poison me, human?" he chuckles. "I am a Nazgul – I cannot die! Here, watch –" He takes the solution and pours the lot down his throat. "Ha ha ha ha h-" He falls silent and stares into the distance in a sort of trance.

"Who are you?" asks Dumbledore.

"I am Nazgul Number Ten, servant of Lord Sauron, Fairy Godmother to the Nine, and scout for the Ring of Power! Mwahahahaha!" cries Ten.

"Where are you from?"

"Mordor!"

"Why are you here?"

"To find the Ring of Power!"

Dumbledore blinks. There is a few moments' silence, and then: "Madam Pomfrey, take care of the patient. Professors, you may leave. I am going to my office; I have some work to do."

* * *

There is Chapter 2. Chapter 3 to focus on the orc scouts sent by Sauron as well as the dealings of Saruman Reincarnate with the Uruk-Hai, so look for that chapter in the near future. Please review.

~ Anoriel


	3. Ch3: The Orc Scouts and the UrukHai

A/N: Deedly dee... waiting for reviews... dum de dum...

The Nine In Trouble!

Chapter 3

Girgishba the messenger orc hiked down to the new apartment complex below Mt. Doom. The Barad Dur Heights complex was extremely popular for some reason. Nearly 50% of the orc population of Mordor lived here, in this gigantic ant farm carved into the side of the mountain. Sauron's construction manager had stolen the idea from the goblin caves of the Misty Mountains.

Girgishba knocked on a large boulder and waited a few seconds. Then the boulder was rolled off to the side by Yarblabdat the Warty, one of the scouts requested by Sauron.

"Gar shagr Sauron tkashya srug!" growled Girgishba.

"Urgat Girgishba hiki tark gargash yabomkta!" sneered Yarblabdat. This attitude made him one of the best orc scouts.

Girgishba pulled out a cell phone. "Sha tkashyi Sauron?" he asked threateningly.

Yarblabdat scowled and replied, "Rarg, flagtamagat. Gorga tish blabtagargar!"

He followed Girgishba out of Barad Dur Heights. Girgishba said, "Gargabar srug Shakatablar gra."

* * *

The other orc scout, Shakatablar the Incredibly Nasty, lived all alone in a cave that smelled of sulfur, gasoline, and sour milk. He smelled just like his cave. His battle face was quite a sight: he stuck his fingernail in his ear to draw blood, which he then smeared all over his face, with his huge bloodshot eyes wide open, his tongue lolling out over his rotten mossy teeth, and his pinkie finger stuck up his nose.

Girgishba strode into the cave without so much as wrinkling his nose. Yarblabdat stayed near the entrance, trying not to look apprehensive.

"Gar shagr Sauron tkashya srug!" growled Girgishba.

"Flagtamagat!" roared Shakatablar. "Sora Sauron gargar ykatr sha aktamargat!"

"Yarg. Gargybargy gu," said Girgishba. Shakatablar followed him out of the cave. Yarblabdat followed them both to Sauron's Ultra-Secret Planning Room.

* * *

Girgishba presented Yarblabdat and Shakatablar before Sauron. "Our finest orc scouts, your evilness. I trust you will find them satisfactory."

"Whatever, just get them to Top-Bottom Earth! We need the Nazgul back NOW!" Suaron screamed.

"Very well," said Girgishba. "Harkytar tashkent kabul ashgabat!" he yelled to the orcs in white lab coats, who immediately brought forth an oversized mirror and set it down before Sauron's throne. Sauron had thrones in all the major rooms of his palace, which was little more than a larger version of Barad Dur Heights.

Girgishba yelled at Yablabdat and Shakatablar. "Grishka tikrit ulaan bataar shutk!"

Shakatablar and Yablabdat hesitated. Then Sauron roared, "GRISHKA TIKRIT ULAAN BATAAR SHUTK!" They both dove into the mirror, which swallowed them up like a pool of water, something which they had never entered in their lives.

* * *

- Isengard -

Saruman Reincarnate is sitting on his multi-colored throne in Orthanc when he gets a call on his palantir. Thinking that he's going to have to change the ringtone very soon, he strides forward and rips the cloth off of it.

Far below Orthanc, in the pits of Isengard, an orc is talking into his cell phone. "Saruman Reincarnate, milord!" it says. "The Uruk-Hai are ready!"

"Good, good," says Saruman Reincarnate smugly. "Bring them to the Multi-Purpose Room immediately."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the Uruks are gathered in the Multi-Purpose Room. Saruman Reincarnate begins his speech.

"Do you know how the orcs came into being? They were elves once, tortured and mutilated by Sauron in the slimy pits of Mordor. That's right, my boyfriend is the one who made you so ugly. So who do you serve?"

"SARUMAN REINCARNATE!" they all roar.

"Wait a second!" Saruman Reincarnate shouts back. "I am close friends with the one who tortured and mutilated you! Why are you serving me? Why don't you hate me?" He pauses to let this sink in. "Now who do you serve?"

"SARUMAN REINCARNATE!" they all roar.

"Gaahh! I don't believe it! How could you - gaahhh!! You know what? I think you're ugly. I never wanted to breed Uruks. You are the STINKIEST SCUM that EVER WALKED MIDDLE EARTH!!!! Now who do you serve?" Saruman Reincarnate rattles out.

"SARUMAN REINARNATE!" they all roar.

Saruman Reincarnate starts ripping his hair out. Just before he leaves to run insanely around Isengard he shouts at them, "Go to Mordor! Tell Sauron that I have finished creating his army and step into the mirror he puts in front of you! Quickly! Bye!"

The Uruks look at one another rather bemusedly before setting off toward Mordor.

Things are getting weirder and weirder.

* * *

- Somewhere on the Anadyr Plateau, Russia -

Meanwhile Yarblabdat and Shakatablar are having a bad time of it in Top-Bottom Earth. They emerged from the mirror somewhere very cold and snowy, which is confusing to them because in Mordor it is hot and slimy.

Shakatablar consults his inborn compass and says in orkish, "The shortest route to Chicago's thataway," pointing to the east.

Yarblabdat shakes his head, the orkish gesture of comprehension. They head east.

* * *

- Mordor -

After the orcs disappear into the mirror, Sauron calls for the locator. This is anoter foozball-table-looking-thing that shows where the scouts are on Top-Bottom Earth.

Sauron studies the locator for a moment before crying out, "I can never read these cursed instruments! Are they in Chicago or not?"

An orc in a white lab coat sitting at a computer says, "It appears that they have not landed directly at the proposed destination."

"THEN WHERE HAVE THEY LANDED, I ASK?!!" screams Sauron.

"Somehwere in Siberia," says the orc timidly.

"Where's Siberia?" roars Sauron.

"Northern Russia," says the orc even more timidly.

Sauron explodes. Things are not going well at all.

* * *

All right, there's Chapter 3. Chapter 4 to focus on Ten, the Nine, and the Uruk-Hai. Please review.

~ Anoriel

PS: Extra credit! Where did I get the orkish words _tashkent, kabul, ashgabat, tikrit, ulaan, _and _bataar_? Answers in the next chapter!


	4. Ch4: The Plot Thickens Slowly

A/N: Answers!!

Rightie, most of you (actually, _both_ of you, to be exact) got that Kabul and Tikrit are in Afghanistan, however, 33.33% on a test gets you an F, or an E in Europe, and the rest of the answers are as follows:

Tashkent: Tashkent, capital of Uzbekistan

Ashgabat: Ashgabat, capital of Turkmenistan

Ulaan and Bataar: Ulaan Bataar, capital of Mongolia

No, Rica, you may not have a cookie, but you may have... a marshmallow!

The Nine in Trouble!

Chapter 4

"SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS! SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS! SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS! SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS!"

Stomp, stomp went the Uruk feet as they clomp clomped to Mordor. To improve morale, they chanted "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" over and over to the beat of their stomp stomping. Actually, there was no real reason for this, but "improvement of morale" sounded to them like a smart thing to say.

"Ready, halt!" shouted the orc at the front, and half the orcs halted. The other half did not hear him, however, causing rather a domino effect through the ranks.

The orc at the front was extremely irritated. "You idiots!" he roared. "What does it take? What do I have to do to get you to figure out what eights and eights are? Is it too hard for you? Fifteen push-ups, all of you!"

The Uruks got on the ground and did their push-ups, after which they got up once more to grumble to one another.

"Silence!" cried the orc at the front. "Now we're doing eights and eights backwards! Set!"

The Uruks groaned and turned around. They started grumbling with each other once again.

"Set, idiots!" They stopped grumbling and stood up straight.

A rather obnoxious metronome clicked on at the front. The orc turned it up to full volume, so that all anyone could hear was the piercing "Chee-co chee-co chee-co" of the machine.

"Mark time eight!" shouted the orc at the front, and all the Uruks began marking time. Left, right, left, ZZZZZZ... right, I mean left, wait, hold on - 

They started marching backwards rather raggedly, stopping every eight steps to mark time for eight again, and in this manner they proceeded towards Mordor.

(Note: For you non- band geeks out there, marking time is a process roughly described as "marching in place." Eights and eights is a marching exercise where you mark time for eight counts, march for eight counts, mark time for eight more counts, etc, etc, until you are called to a halt. Simple, right? Try repeating it exponentially at 200 BPM or so, that's when it's not so simple.)

- Chicago, USA -

"Antidisestablishmentarianism," said Three, "is defined as 'the state of being opposed to working against the existing power structure or mores, as of society or government.'"

The others stared blankly at him for a moment.

"Your point is..." said Eight.

"I dunno," said Three. "Just thought I'd mention that."

Bubba let out a gargantuan belch, which echoed around the cell like a wave of marbles.

They all remained silent for another ten minutes.

"I'm bored," said Three.

"Who gives a - " Eight began to say, but he was cut off by the assent of the other seven.

Four said, "I know. Gollum. Teach us how to talk in that weird croaky voice you have."

Gollum remained silent.

Four shook him awake. "Gollum. Teach us how to talk in that weird croaky voice you have."

Gollum yawned and said, "Fine, Precious, we teaches them. But we is not ejoying it, no, we is not."

Four said, "Just tell us already."

Gollum responded, "It is not easy, indeed no, for it takes us many years to learn it. It must make a funny raspy noise in the back of its throat as it speaks, as if it has a slimy cough and cannot work its voice properly. It must draw out the 's' consonants, yes, and use 'gollum' as a common interjection, and also call itself and the Precious 'precious,' repeatedly. That is all we is saying, precious."

Four said, "Like this, nassty Gollum?"

"Yes, yes, it has it, precious, it has it almost right, it does. Now can we go back to sleep, precious?" said Gollum.

"Yes it can, precious," said Four hoarsely.

Soon the other seven (excluding Eight, as usual) were talking in fluent Gollum, so that Eight had to go to Gollum's corner and cover his ears.

"SHUT UP!" he eventually cried, and they all did.

Bubba burped.

- Somewhere in the northern UK -

"Aequeosalinocalcalinosetaceoaluminosocupreovitriolic," said Professor Granger. "That describes this potion Dumbledore has instructed me to give to the strange visitor. Can you manage it, Severus?"

"Consider it done," he said, stirring together several ingredients in his cauldron, ladling a quantity into a pitcher, and handing it to her.

She exited the dungeons and made her way to the hospital wing. She found Madam Pomfrey at her desk.

"Poppy," she said, handing the potion to her, "here it is. I do hope it works."

"Ah, good," said Madam Pomfrey. "Yes, I hope so too."

* * *

Ten looked about in dismay. Where was he? Why was he here? He remembered something about the Nine irritating him, but then... everything had just gone black in his mind, like a hole in his memory.

It was the Nine! They had done something strange to him, and then sent him here... somehow. He couldn't quite figure out what powers they might have used to do this. But the method was one thing; the crime was another. They had to be punished! And the sooner the better. But how...

He sat, deep in thought, for over half an hour.

At last he hit upon an idea. Crude and simple though it was, it would have to do until he could find some way to elaborate it.

"You there! Gondor woman!" he called to Madam Pomfrey. She pointed at herself, giving a silent "Me?"

"Yes! Do you see anyone else?" he retorted.

"What?" she said, rather annoyed.

"Get me your leader."

"My leader?"

Ten sighed exasperatedly. "Must I repeat everything I say here? Yes, your leader. I wish to speak with him."

"Professor Dumbledore may not be available at the moment," she said primly, as if that settled the matter.

It didn't. "Well, would you check, O vile mortal?" Ten queried.

She sat a moment, looking even more annoyed, but she decided to humor the obnoxious stranger. "All right then," she said, "I'll check." And she left the room.

* * *

Okay, I updated finally! There is chapter 4. Please R/R. Thanx.

~ Anoriel


	5. Ch5: The Nine Break Out

A/N: Ooh, I like it when I update relatively quickly! It makes me feel special, like that one time when I tested out of the grammar portion of Honors English!

Yes, I had to mention that.

Anyway...

Rica: Brilliantly insightful comment. I concur wholeheartedly.

The Nine in Trouble!

Chapter 5

Shakatablar the Incredibly Nasty and Yarblabdat the Warty inched their way through the dense snow, not realizing that it was Russian snow and that they should be on a totally different continent.

Don't you love it when things like this happen?

Sauron certainly didn't.

- Mordor -

Sauron's Grand Advisory Council was holding an emergency meeting at Sauron's explicit request. To get to the Meeting Room you had to first pass through Sauron's Ultra-Secret Planning Room, two vaults, a tunnel, and a booby trap of a rather ghastly sort, which will not be discussed at this time. These precautions were to ensure that the meetings were not disturbed.

In the case of this meeting, the precautions did not matter. Everyone there was disturbed anyway.

"The Ring is in the hands of a psychopath. My Nazgul are missing. The Uruks are late, and my two orc scouts are in the middle of Siberia, half a world away from their destination! I want to know why, and I want to know RIGHT NOW!" Sauron banged his spiky fist on the long Meeting Table.

An orc fifteen seats down or so raised his hand and waved it around in the air.

Sauron rolled his eyes. "Yes?" he said after a moment.

The orc stood up. "The Ring is in the hands of the Evil Jeweler Dude because he picked it up. The Nazgul are missing because we lost track of them. The Uruks are late because Saruman Reincarnate couldn't get them ready for you on time, and the orc scouts are in Siberia because there was a malfunction in the Time-Space Transporter," he said, all in one breath.

If looks could kill, Sauron's would have bored a hole through the orc's skull. Actually, Sauron's looks _could_ kill, so the orc was dead and on the ground in two hundredths of a second.

"Who is your leader?" Sauron boomed evilly.

A chorus of _you_'s echoed in the Meeting Room.

"Would you insult your leader?"

A chorus of _no_'s echoed in the Meeting Room.

"Am I equivalent to my intelligence?"

The orcs eyed him vacantly.

"Just say yes, imbeciles."

A chorus of _yes_'s echoed in the Meeting Room.

"I am your leader. You would never insult me. I am equivalent to my intelligence. Therefore, if you insult my intelligence, you insult me. NEVER INSULT MY INTELLIGENCE!" Sauron thundered. "Capiche?"

A chorus of _capiche_'s echoed in the Meeting Room.

"Good, good, very good," Sauron said smugly. Then reverting back to his nasty demeanor, he roared, "But that doesn't mean I'm finished with you! I want you all on this – this – this _indignity_, before I beat the slimy daylights out of each and every one of you! Grrr…"

The orcs all stood up with a snap. "Sir yes sir!" they shouted, and they scrambled out the exit of the Meeting Room, inched their way past the rather ghastly booby trap, and sprinted through the tunnel, two vaults, and Ultra-Secret Planning Room, leaving Sauron standing in the Meeting Room.

He snickered to himself and pressed a big red button by the door. An aperture opened up in the wall, revealing an elevator to the surface, which he then boarded.

* * *

The Nine sat lethargically in their cell as Bubba continued his unpleasant cacophony of belches. Smeagol began to scratch the cell floor sluggishly with his long fingers.

Two yawned. "When are we ever going to get out of here?"

"Hmm…" mumbled Seven.

Three was asleep, but started singing, "I'm a little teapot, see how they run, how I wonder what you are, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, and up the spout again…."

Eight looked on with disgust. His eyes then took another scan of the cell. Then he did a double-take, focusing on Smeagol.

"My God! Smeagol you idiot! Why didn't you tell us you could dig?!"

For the floor Smeagol was scratching at had developed a good-sized dent, which was continuing to grow with every swipe of the finger.

Smeagol, not realizing what he was doing, glanced at Eight with a "Huh?" before staring down at the dent in amazement. "Precious! Yess, Precious! Smeagol is free!" He did his little dance that he does in the second movie before starting to dig in earnest.

The other eight had woken up by this point and were staring at the flying dirt and concrete in amazement. In ten seconds, the dent had become a tunnel spanning a good four feet, getting deeper and deeper every moment.

In ten minutes, the Nine, Smeagol, and Bubba were outside, face to face with the radiant sun.

* * *

"Ready, halt!"

The voice resonated before the Black Gates of Mordor, followed by the irritating screeching of the metronome. "Chee-co chee-co chee – " the orc at the front turned it off.

"Dress center dress!"

The Uruks snapped their heads toward the center column, lining themselves up and straightening the ranks.

"Ready, front!"

Their head snapped back forward.

"About face, idiots!" screamed the orc at the front. The Uruks all turned around so they were facing the Black Gates. "Congratulations! You've made it to Mordor! Now in about five minutes these gates are going to open, and Sauron isn't going to be impressed by a bunch of sloppy, technically lax _orcs_. He will be impressed by a professional, together appearance! When you go in there, I want to see perfect technique! I want straight lines! I want order!"

Just then, the Black Gates open and the Uruks make a mad rush for the entrance, trampling over the orc at the front in their frenzy.

"Ow," he says.

* * *

Yay! Now I have five chapters! Please review them!

~ Anoriel


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